


strings which tie us

by hookedonsunshine



Category: The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, O! T! 3!, also may be a little comedic because of henry's interpretation of addie's deal, and warmed my tiny bisexual heart, and wonderful, anyway what's the solution to a love triangle?, i hope u also loved this book with your whole heart because it deserves nothing less, obviously this will contain spoilers because this is a post epilogue, of sorts, so here i am, this book was beautiful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hookedonsunshine/pseuds/hookedonsunshine
Summary: “As long as you want me by your side.”There are many ways to interpret a promise. Henry and Addie take different approaches, as Luc struggles to hold onto what was so hard fought (although not, perhaps, earned). Perhaps some love may come from this after all, although how human it will be is anyone's guess.
Relationships: Addie LaRue/Henry Strauss, Addie LaRue/Henry Strauss/Luc, Addie LaRue/Luc, Henry Strauss/Luc
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

It is only one month until it happens. They realise at the exact same instant, Henry and Luc, although in rather different circumstances.

* * *

Henry is alone, Book on his lap, purring softly, flicking through his copy of Addie (a paper-bound lover, and all he has left). It comes to him softly, innocuous, prompted by nothing except, perhaps, the edge which strikes with each new dusk, a twenty-four hour reminder of _him_ (and of _her_ ).

* * *

Luc is not alone (he rarely is, nowadays. Once, this would have been a curse. Later, a blessing. Now it is… confusing, an unfamiliar feeling). Adeline is next to him, because of course she is. She is quiet, demure, sipping on scarlet (having forgone champagne on what he had wryly dubbed their wedding night, she had only drunk red wine since). He makes a sharp dig, and she smiles softly, accepting. Her eyes crinkle. She says nothing.

She still cannot leave a mark, but now it seems by choice, as she skims past the days like an uninteresting novel.

Her wooden ring shines upon her finger, a promise fulfilled three hundred years too late to a being less human than her father had planned. She never takes it off.

By all accounts, they are a blissful couple.

He hates it.

That too, is unfamiliar.

And it strikes him just as it strikes one now untied to the pair some thousand miles away.

“As long as you _want_ me by your side.”

The wording had seemed strange at the time. He was as familiar with contracts as Adeline was with homing in on artists, and any variance in phrasing would always ring alarm bells. Of course, usually he was on the other end of the trickery (he would never forget the _fire_ in Joan’s eyes as he reaped a reward so much sooner than he had implied), but he had been surprised by Adeline before.

And it wasn't as if he hadn't considered it. Considered parroting back the promise, braiding in the _forever_ she was dancing around, but it had seemed unnecessary. A creature like him changing even _once_ was unlikely. He couldn’t imagine a second. But clearly, Adeline thought she could manage it (clearly, she believed she told the truth when she called him incapable of love).

“Adeline, my dear.”

("Why do you think the way humans love is the only way?"

"Why do you think the way _you_ love is human, at all?")

She cocked her head softly, parted her lips in a silent query.

But he did not speak the words which burned the inside of his lips, and instead raised his glass in a wordless toast. She joined instantly.

As long as he knew it was just a game to her, she could not win.

(Although it broke what he had in place of a heart, a little, to play)

But he was so _very_ good at games.

* * *

“As long as you want me by your side.”

Henry suspected he knew the game Addie was playing. He suspected that it would not work. His time with Luc had been brief (so much briefer than the 300 years string connecting the two), but even he knew that the man would see her plan eventually, and he would not be willing to give in. Even if Addie made herself so utterly unappealing that he fulfilled the terms, the two had a stubbornness in common that meant he was utterly unlikely to admit it, would rather spend eternity unhappy, so long as he did not _lose._

After all, Henry had their story. He knew what had happened when Addie had pointed out that he might be lonely, accurate as she was. Decades had passed until he admitted the truth, and even then, he had never once relinquished his hold on her promise.

He had even sought out Henry, who looked so much like him, who had the potential of an artist and the broken heart of one desperate – a perfect bait for the perfect girl.

He did not play fair, although he would never admit it, objective arbiter of souls he claimed to be.

He would not let her go, since he would never admit that the condition was no longer true.

But there were other ways to interpret that promise.

“As long as you want _me_.”

Henry was not familiar in the art of seduction. The first decades of his life had been spent in easy relationships and tumultuous sadness. The last year, it had been effortless, and it would have been more of an art to stay unwanted.

But for Addie, he would try.

After all, he was not bound for eternity. He had been let loose by the love of a girl, and now he could do the same. He only need break Luc briefly, evidence that Addie was now free, and she would be untied just as Henry was.

Now he just needed to find him.


	2. Chapter 2

Robbie is confused, certainly, although not heartbroken (yet another thing he has to thank Addie for, the removal of faux love alongside his curse.)

“Performance?”

He nods, eager.

“But… you’re a writer.”

(Not true, not at all – he wrote one novel, and the words were not his own. Writing a chapter is not the same as writing a story, and Henry is no weaver of words.)

(Henry is a jack of all trades, master of none. the abandoned hobbies around his house attest to that much)

(And one not abandoned. Could it be called a hobby? To love a girl?)

“I want to learn to express myself.” he allows that much truth to slip through.

“You’re expressive enough already.” Robbie smirked, unable to not flirt even now, but it is insincere, and he is so relieved.

“And you’re a compulsive flatterer. Come on, surely you have some tips?”

“Who are you trying to impress, anyway? I assume not an audition. Fancied trying your hand at being a renaissance man?”

He wishes. A life at its end is such a discrete, finite, contained thing. He thought, after having only a year, the endless stretch would seem luxurious. Yet even after just days had passed, he felt stifled once again. A thousand lifetimes wouldn’t be enough to be everything he wanted to be.

He wondered how Addie had managed it in just a handful.

“Just… fancied branching out.”

And Robbie seemed to accept that he would be getting no more information from him, that Henry was determined to remain inscrutable, and had nodded and taken him through some techniques.

Body language was important, it seemed. So too was confidence. Speaking slowly makes you seem collected, with the added bonus of adding time to speak. Maintain eye contact. Point your feet.

He suspected that none of this would work on Luc, whom Henry suspected had spent eternity using similar tricks to ensnare his prey.

But it was a place to start.

Next, he needed a place to _try_.

* * *

“I’m stepping out.”

Adeline smiled demurely, and pulled on her gown. “I’ll retire, then. Have a lovely dawn, darling.”

“Are you not interested in where _I’m_ going?” Adeline had always been inquisitive.

“Not particularly.” Adeline had always been _stubborn._ He knew it was an act, of course, but a knife will cut either way.

The streets were dark. Not that he knew them to be any other way, but it felt especially pressing tonight. He wondered how sun felt on skin. He wondered how Adeline looked under sunbeams, freckles lit and eyes bright. He’d seen the image, but never the original. Abstract faces and blurred photos and statues half veiled. He’d never seen Adeline herself captured by sunbeams, and the thought captured and repulsed him in equal measure. The day was his antithesis, yet there was something so compelling about the taboo.

He wondered if she missed the light. After all, she matched her schedule to his now.

Perhaps she thought the constant exposure would lead him to tire quicker. He suspected she was still hoping she could catch the end of her _Henry’s_ life. She was naïve. Even if he was capable of tiring, it would take far longer than a single human’s lifetime. He’d seen thousands, after all. He was nothing if not patient.

He walked and walked although he did not need to, but the rhythm of feet on concrete was soothing. He kept to the alleys, narrow and cool, and shaded from the dawn which was threatening to break. They were still in the city; artists and the desperate, often one and the same, a haven for him and his lover.

Not that she made use of it, any more.

On a roof that looked familiar, he saw a figure, and sighed. _Déjà vu, deja su, deja vecu,_ in the most abominable way. But work had been neglected, and he needed the longevity, if he was to last out this terrible drought.

And yet, reaching from shadows, familiarity became a mirror, and a face in which he was fluent stared back.

“I’m amazed that worked. Are you losing your touch, or did you _genuinely_ not get your fill of spite?”

“I sensed desperation.” He sneered.

Henry looked him up and down, and Luc’s stomach twisted as he recognised an emotion he’d only seen a handful of times before, and never directed at him. _Pity._

“I’m sure you did. But then, it’s not just me, is it, _Luc._ ” Adeline's chosen name slipped from his tongue. It did not burn like it should.

And a gleam in eyes so familiar, and Henry Strauss stepped forward. Once, twice.

And, almost as if in a dream, so too did he.

**Author's Note:**

> i wish i could erase this novel from my mind and read it again, like addie to a stranger, but alas, i can't, so here i am, refusing to let go.
> 
> (i did put it down for 10 minutes before reading the last few pages because i was so sad at the thought of letting go of these characters though)


End file.
